The great coach stands guard outside the newly renovated Pauley Pavilion, his watchful eye monitoring droves of UCLA fans as they file into the stadium with kids by their side. They’ve come to watch the Bruins, but mostly they have come to pay homage to the legacy he built—and the $136 million shrine that was built for the infallible Great Coach who never swore, never drank and almost never lost.

John Wooden passed away in 2010 and last coached a college basketball game nearly 40 years ago, but you wouldn’t know it by going to a UCLA game today. The very court bears his name, and a seat—just behind the UCLA bench and painted gold—remains forever empty in his honor. The entire east concourse has been deemed “Wooden Way,” full of memorabilia and remembrances, a smaller shrine inside the larger one. Leave the confines of Pauley Pavilion and his legacy still follows you; when Pauley had to be closed for renovations last season, the women’s basketball and volleyball teams played in the building next door.

The John Wooden Center.

UCLA is proud of their spiritual father, understandably. Under his leadership, from 1948-75, they became the most dominant program that college basketball has ever seen, winning 10 National Championships in 12 seasons and sending some of the greatest players in NBA history on to Hall of Fame careers. In the four decades since Wooden retired, UCLA has continued to have incredible success; yet, they are both entranced and hampered by the memory of the messianic and unflinching bronzed face of their program.

Three days ago, it cost Ben Howland his job.

**

On a chilly (by L.A. standards, anyway) Tuesday night in December, UCLA hosted Long Beach State in their new digs. Led by their freshmen tandem of Jordan Adams (24 points) and phenom Shabazz Muhammad (21 points), the Bruins jumped out to a 9-2 lead and dominated, shooting a whopping 58.9 percent to grab the 89-70 win. Long Beach would love to turn the match-up into an annual rivalry, but UCLA made it clear that, until further notice, they’re still the top ticket in town.

Some say that the renovations to Pauley Pavilion were a direct response to the USC’s Galen Center, opened a few years ago in downtown L.A. But while the Galen is nice, it’s maybe too comfortable, almost quaint. For some reason, USC continues to treat basketball with the same indifference that a toddler treats broccoli—“Well, if we haaave to.” Not exactly a raucous college atmosphere.

By contrast, UCLA makes a big effing deal about basketball. The new Pauley Pavilion feels less like a large Galen Center, and more like a miniature Staples Center. There are high-def screens everywhere, more than 100 in total, floating graphics from one end of the court to the other, integrating with more screens on the scorer’s table and above the entrance tunnels until it feels like you’re watching Avatar 3D instead of a real-life basketball game. In the lobby, the Champions Made Here wall lists all the UCLA National Champion teams through history, glowing like an ultra-iPad that could be updated the second any Bruin squad wins another natty.

With students on their winter break, most of the crowd (over 8,350 in a building with 13,800 capacity) are the salt-and-pepper type—fathers and even grandfathers who were students during the Wooden Era, who left their Brentwood offices early to share the old Bruin spirit with their sons at the New Pauley. This is the typical UCLA fan these days, and the school knows how to market to them: Nostalgia. Shabazz Mu-who? Come here, sonny, and let me tell you about a little someone named Bill Walton.

For some reason, UCLA clings desperately to its distinguished past, and it’s costing them their future. In the 40 years since Wooden retired, UCLA has sent players like Baron Davis, Matt Barnes and Jrue Holliday to the NBA. Darren Collison, Kevin Love and Russell Westbrook went to three consecutive Final Fours from 2006-08. The new Pauley bears little tribute to players like Reggie Miller, Tyus Edney, Jordan Farmar and all-time Pac-12 leading scorer Don MacLean. (Big ups to Kiki Vandeweghe, who got a shout-out on the jumbotron during the Long Beach game, but still.) Hell, UCLA won a National Championship in 1995 with Ed O’Bannon and Toby Bailey, which, let’s be honest, is more impressive than any one of Wooden’s titles.

There is little room to commemorate recent success in the new Pauley Pavilion. There is only room for Coach, the warden in a prison that the Bruins have built themselves, and now they’re stuck wondering why people aren’t jumping at the chance to be admitted.

**

It’s a phenomenon unlike any other in college basketball. Indiana doesn’t reserve a seat for Bob Knight, who won more games. Kansas home games don’t open with video tributes to Dr. James Naismith, and he invented the damn game. At UCLA, all you ever hear about is Wooden, who won a ton and dropped sparkling life lessons like loose change, never contributed any lasting innovations to the game of basketball except the High Post—a pretty obvious one when Lew Alcindor is your center—and damn near had Championships vacated due to significant violations.

Maybe the UCLA obsession with Wooden is a commentary on the fast and loose nature of college basketball today. In the one-and-done era (UCLA has had its share), it’s nice to hold on to something that lasts. Wooden was never one to embrace change—he tried to outlaw dunking and was constantly at odds with Walton about the length of his hair.

That’s part of his beauty, but it’s also his biggest weakness. No matter how hard you try, you can’t prevent the future. To his credit, Wooden saw that and retired just as the game was about to pass him by. He is forever remembered as the master of his domain, but it was more about timing than anything else.

Ben Howland bought himself some time by going to three consecutive Final Fours, but it ran out this week. UCLA severed ties with their head coach while the rest of the country scratched their heads in confusion and wondered why you would jettison a guy who brought you that much success. The problem isn’t that UCLA did the wrong thing; it’s that they did it for the wrong reasons.

Ask a UCLA fan and they’ll tell you that Howland was fired—regardless of those three magical seasons, several exceptional recruiting classes and the ‘12-13 Pac-12 championship—for two reasons: He changed his style of play and he changed the type of player he recruited, both for the worse. And they’re right.

After that last Final Four run in 2008, Howland began to move away from his lock-down defense and turned to five-star recruits rather than the unsung blue collar guys like Westbrook and Collison. The result was a disastrous stretch of 42 losses and only one NCAA Tournament win in the last four years. High-profile recruits like Drew Gordon and Tyler Lamb didn’t work out, others like Malcolm Lee and Josh Shipp were disappointments, and I could write a book on Reeves Nelson’s issues.

Howland’s gambles didn’t pay off. But then, UCLA fans were the ones who demanded he take them.

As so often happens in L.A., success jaded the Bruin faithful. You go to three straight Final Fours and the spirit of the Great John Wooden reminds you it’s your manifest destiny to go back again and again forever and ever amen. Howland changed his style from defensive to uptempo because UCLA fans demanded he do so. Howland built his program around talented but volatile recruits because UCLA fans demanded he do so. On a high after their Final Four success, Bruin fans felt entitled to a show and they felt entitled to the best players in the country. Howland adopted those ideas and when they didn’t work out, the fans pinned it on him. Plain and simple. No wonder VCU head coach Shaka Smart turned down the gig; who would want to work under those conditions? UCLA used to be a dream job for even the biggest coaches in the country. Today, it’s a pawn in their contract negotiations.

If UCLA wanted to fire Howland, they could have done it last season with no guilty conscience. Instead, they chose to pull the trigger after a league title and an NCAA Tournament loss that happened in part because Jordan Adams was injured and Shabazz Muhammad pulled a Te’o and let personal issues hurt his game. How can you convince a potential coach that he’ll have a secure job when those are grounds for dismissal?

**

Howland went through a couple of rough seasons. But in the midst of that darkness came THREE CONSECUTIVE FINAL FOURS, which, if you think about it, is nearly as impressive in the current cutthroat world of 68 Tourney teams as winning 10 titles back when only 25 schools went dancing each year (and none had anything resembling Alcindor or Walton).

If you’re the kind of fan who read that and found it ridiculous to compare Howland’s achievements to Wooden’s, then guess what: You’re the problem. No one is ever going to win 10 Championships again, and it’s unfair to hold your current coaches and teams to that standard. UCLA maintains distance from the present in order to cling to their past. Coach deserves his due, but going overboard on the Wooden Romance only diminishes the product you’re putting on the court today.

The biggest mistake Ben Howland made as the head coach of UCLA was that he wasn’t John Wooden. Well, that, and listening to UCLA fans.

In death, and through the construction of a new domain that would probably embarrass him, Wooden remains the Wizard of Westwood. The only question is whether that helps or hurts UCLA. As much as Wooden tried to stop it, the future is here. It’s just too bad that the Bruins are handcuffed by their past.

Ryan ZumMallen is a sportswriter in Long Beach, CA. You can find him on Twitter at @Zoomy575M.

A California guy in every respect, Jamaal Wilkes played his entire college and NBA career in his home state. Wilkes also brought a lot of titles to California, winning two with UCLA and four with the Lakers. With a deadly accurate jumpshot and tough defense, Wilkes was an asset to every team he was on, so much so that John Wooden once called him the “ideal player.” In SLAM 79, the “ideal player” recapped his great career. –Ed.

by Ryan Jones

If basketball success is ultimately defined by winning, then Jamaal Wilkes stands as one of the most successful players in the history of the game. He was a key member of the UCLA Bruins’ 1972 and ’73 NCAA title teams and a driving force in their untouchable 88-game winning streak. As a rookie with Golden State in ’74-75, he finished second in scoring and rebounding on a Warriors team that won the NBA championship. After three seasons by the Bay, he ended up in Los Angeles, where he would play the bulk of his 12-year career with the Lakers-and where the man known as “Silk” would play a vital role on three more NBA title teams.

That’s six rings, three Final Four trips and five NBA Finals appearances, and Wilkes earned every one of them. The man born Jackson Keith Wilkes-he was known as Keith until changing his name early in his NBA career-was unquestionably a star, but he was never the star of those Bruin, Warrior or Laker teams. His classmate Bill Walton rightly owned the spotlight during their unparalleled run at UCLA, and when he joined the Warriors, he did so in the shadow of a still-in-his-prime Rick Barry. When he moved back to L.A. in ’77, it was another Bruin big man who dominated the scene; the Lakers were Kareem Abdul-Jabbar’s team, at least until Magic Johnson arrived a few years later to kick off the Showtime era.

No matter where he played or which future Hall of Famers he played with, Wilkes contributed with smoothness-hence the nickname-intelligence and efficiency. His numbers weren’t bad, either. A member of the ’72 All-Tournament team and a two-time All-American, the 6-7 forward averaged 15 points (on 51.4 percent shooting) and 7.4 boards in three varsity seasons. The 11th pick in the 1974 NBA Draft, he averaged 14.2 ppg and 8.2 rpg on Golden State’s ’74-75 title team, good for Rookie of the Year honors. When Silk retired in ’86 after a brief stint with the Clippers, he owned career averages of 17.7 ppg and 6.2 rpg. A three-time All-Star, Wilkes also shot 49.9 percent from the floor, a rate made all the more impressive by his odd but undeniably effective shot: a wind-up, over-the-head motion that remains his trademark.

Now a successful businessman, Wilkes still lives and works in Southern California with his wife. The father of three has been busy the past few years watching his two sons develop into quality players in their own right: Omar, a 6-4 guard and former SLAM Punk, is finishing his freshman year at Kansas, while younger brother Jordan is a 6-9 forward and top-50 high school junior at L.A.’s Loyola High. We asked Silk about playing for John Wooden, playing with Walton, Barry, Magic and Kareem, and watching his sons follow his path.

SLAM: So, first things first: Where did the nickname come from?

JW: When I was a freshman at UCLA, there was a guy in the school band who used to come to practice almost every day. One day I did something in practice that really impressed him. Well, all the freshmen-Bill Walton, Greg Lee, all of us-we all stayed in the dorms and ate dinner together in the dining hall. And the guy from the band came up at dinner and said, “Keith, you play like…like silk! Smooth as silk!” All the guys got a kick out of that, so they started calling me “Silk.” Then Dick Enberg, who was just coming up at the time, heard the guys calling me that and started saying it on the air.

SLAM: As a high school star in the L.A. area in the late ’60s and early ’70s, UCLA had to be your dream destination.

JW: I was fortunate to have some options, and Southern Cal was very attractive, all the California schools. I even looked at a couple places in Pennsylvania, so I did seriously consider other schools. But of course, John Wooden kind of prevailed.

SLAM: You were part of the greatest dynasty in college history-those back-to-back 30-0 seasons, that 88-game winning streak, two of John Wooden’s 10 national titles. What was it like being a part of that program, and to play for Coach Wooden?

JW: People don’t understand how brilliant John Wooden really is. We were just blessed to be around someone like that. He’s an incredible human being, and just a brilliant coach. And the program, it got to a point where winning wasn’t enough. We almost had to win a certain way. But it was very special. It was a tremendous sense of pride to carry the tradition, or to try to.

SLAM: Can you ever see another time when one coach and one program can be that dominant for that long?

JW: I believe anything’s possible, but…no, I don’t. A lot of that has to do with John Wooden. Plus, the world’s so different. So few games were on television, and now every game is on television, so from a recruiting perspective it’s very different. Plus, for kids today, winning in college isn’t as important. It’s all about getting to the NBA.

SLAM: You and Bill Walton were classmates. How good was he in his prime?

JW: I had the good fortune to play with him for four years, and arguably in his prime, especially in college, he’s right up there with the best of them. I never played against Bill Russell or Wilt, and I played with Kareem in the NBA, but…Bill was just awesome. He was the only guy-and Wes Unseld came close-but the only guy who consistently could rebound the ball, turn in midair and outlet the ball so accurately. He loved to block shots, and he was a great passer, a great scorer, and a great competitor.

SLAM: Health-permitting, do you think Bill could’ve had a career like Kareem’s?

JW: It’s unfair to Kareem, because Kareem did it, you know what I’m saying? But Bill Walton had the competitiveness, the work ethic, the humility, that there’s no doubt in my mind. Unequivocally, yes.

Three weeks after passing away, John Wooden was remembered by his friends, players and peers: “John Wooden was remembered Saturday for being ‘one in a billion as a coach, mentor and friend’ during a memorial service uniting the decades of ‘boys’ who helped him win a record 10 national championships at UCLA…’His spirit will be a part of this building forever,’ said broadcaster Al Michaels, who opened and closed the public service attended by 4,000…’Coach’s value system was from another era, it was developed in an America that has passed on,’ former UCLA star Kareem Abdul-Jabbar said of John Wooden…UCLA athletic director Dan Guerrero told the crowd that Section 103B, Row 2, Seat 1 — roped off and bathed in a spotlight — is now retired. That was where Wooden could be found sitting for years after his 1975 retirement, watching the Bruins’ games and patiently signing autographs. ‘No one else will ever sit there,’ Guerrero said as the audience applauded. Wooden’s life, from his early humble beginnings in Martinsville, Ind., to his days as an All-American player at Purdue to the dynasty he built at UCLA, were remembered in speeches and videos.”

There have been better recruiters. (He never made more than a dozen home visits in his life). There have been better motivators (he was no Geno Auriemma and never cursed beyond his ubiquitous “gracious sakes alive!”).

But there was never a better teacher in the history of basketball than John Robert Wooden.

I don’t write that because of sentimentality following Wooden’s death this week at the age of 99. I don’t write it because the Wizard of Westwood won 10 titles in his last 12 seasons at UCLA, including an insane seven championships in a row. I don’t write it because his lifetime coaching record was 664-162. I write it because winning for Wooden was merely a sign that the teaching was going well.

As former UCLA great, Bill Walton, once described, “He rarely talks about basketball but generally about life. He never talks about strategy, statistics or plays but rather about people and character. And he never tires of telling us that once you become a good person, then you have a chance of becoming a good basketball player or whatever else you may want to do. Of course we didn’t understand or realize any of this while we were living it. We thought he was nuts, crazy. And why not? We won all of our games during our first three and a half years at UCLA. It wasn’t until we started to lose at the end of our senior year, it wasn’t until we left UCLA and ran into the adversity that he told us would be there, that it started to dawn on me just how special we had it at UCLA.”

His objectives on the court were to see young men learn, mature, and transition to adulthood. If those goals were met, the winning would come. He told a reporter last year that if he had to start from scratch today, he would coach high school and teach in the classroom. That’s it. No more, no less.

Wooden knew that there isn’t an NCAA school in the country that would have patience for a philosophy that saw winning as secondary. His motto was, “Success is peace of mind, which is a direct result of self-satisfaction in knowing you made the effort to do your best to become the best that you are capable of becoming.”

Armed with this moral compass, he was a midwife to some of the most important basketball players of the century. Even more impressively, Wooden’s success spanned an era when our campuses were battlegrounds over the war in Vietnam and the struggle for civil rights. During the height of Wooden’s tenure he coached two of the most talented—and politically militant—players in the history of college basketball: Lew Alcindor (later Kareem Abdul-Jabbar) and Walton. Both men, like all of Wooden’s players, still swear by his teachings today.

When Wooden was asked last year how he was able to stand having anti-war players, given his own history as a World War II veteran, Wooden said, “”I’m not going to say I was opposed to the Vietnam War. I’m going to say I’m opposed to war. But I’m also opposed to protests that deny other people their rights … Taking over the administration building when there’s people who have jobs in there to do, I think that’s not right.”

He taught a simple “seven-point creed” handed to him by his father Joshua before Coach Wooden’s 12th birthday. It was: * Be true to yourself. * Make each day your masterpiece. * Help others. * Drink deeply from good books, especially the Bible. * Make friendship a fine art. * Build a shelter against a rainy day. * Pray for guidance and give thanks for your blessings every day.

I can see that these might seem hokey to a 21st-century audience schooled on 140-character tweets for ironic guidance.

But it’s John Wooden’s life that gives them resonance. His life was remarkable not because of the many honors earned that very few of us will experience. It was remarkable because he really did try to make every day a masterpiece. He really did work hard to make the kinds of loyal, lasting friendships that spanned decades. He really did try to help those in need. This is what makes Wooden’s legacy so unique: he didn’t just teach Alcindor and Walton. He taught all of us smart enough to listen. And that’s what makes him the greatest teacher/coach of all -time.

Not only was Wooden one of basketball’s most winningest coaches, he was one of the greatest coaches and human beings the sport has ever seen: “John Wooden, the UCLA basketball coach who became an icon of American sports while guiding the Bruins to an unprecedented 10 national championships in the 1960s and ’70s and remained in the spotlight during retirement with his “Pyramid of Success” motivational program, has died. He was 99. Wooden died Friday evening of natural causes at the Ronald Reagan UCLA Medical Center, the university announced. He had been hospitalized since last week for dehydration.”

“Throw it down big man!” It’s a phrase we haven’t heard in a long time, ever since chronic back problems, once again, removed Bill Walton from basketball. But just like his playing days, Walton keeps bouncing back. His health has returned, and so will his voice this upcoming season when he calls some Sacramento Kings games. We can’t wait. For now, though, this Old School from SLAM 32 will have to hold us over.–Ed.

by Alan Paul

You have to start with the feet. You can’t really begin to understand Bill Walton until you realize just how screwed up his dogs were. Bad enough that the three-time college player of the year’s pro career was limited to 468 games over 13 seasons, four of which he missed entirely.

The next thing you must understand is just how strong Walton’s desire to keep playing really was. Strong enough that he had his feet sliced open and worked on 30 times, never giving up on the hope that he would someday return to the court. Strong enough that in ’86, five years after both he and his doctors announced he would never play again, he managed to win the NBA Sixth Man Award and help the Boston Celtics to their 16th championship.

When the 6-11 Walton’s feet began to fail him almost as soon as he appeared on the basketball landscape, it devastated his game and robbed both him and NBA fans of countless hours of satisfaction. For Walton played the game with a full-court zeal rare in big men, making steals, blocking shots, filling the lane, tipping in errant attempts.

“When he was healthy, which wasn’t for very much of his career, I don’t think there was ever anyone better,” says Dr. Jack Ramsay, who coached Walton and the Trail Blazers to the ’77 title. “He had probably the best across-the-board skills of any center ever; he was an excellent defender, he blocked shots and he had a great sense for directing the defense. On offense, he rebounded and got the ball out on the break-turning and passing while in the air-better than anyone. He could run the floor, he had great hands, he could finish the fast break, he had a great jump hook with either hand and a good spot-up jumper and he was a remarkable passer with an uncanny ability to find the open man and deliver the exactly perfect pass. In short, he was a very, very complete player and a joy to coach, a totally dedicated team player whose only concern was winning.”

And win he did. In Walton’s first two years at UCLA, the Bruins went 60-0 on their way to winning a record 88 consecutive games and two titles, in ’72 and ’73, when he scored 44 points on 21-22 shooting in the deciding game. In three college seasons, Walton averaged 20.3 ppg, 15.7 rpg and 5.5 apg. In ’76-77, his third season in the NBA, he led the remarkably well-balanced Portland Trail Blazers to a title over Dr. J’s 76ers. Walton was dominant in the Finals, named MVP after tying single-game records for blocked shots (eight) and defensive rebounds (20). The doubts which had surrounded him during his first two injury-filled seasons-partly as a result of the sports world’s natural suspicions about a long-haired, vegetarian, Grateful Dead fanatic spouting counter-cultural opinions-seemed vanquished.

The next season, both Walton and the Blazers were even better. He was averaging 18.9 ppg, 13.2 rpg and 5.0 apg and the team was 50-10 when he went down with another injury. Walton’s abbreviated season was good enough to land him the MVP award, but nothing would ever be quite the same. Feeling that the Blazers pressured him to return in the playoffs before he was ready, leading to yet another injury, Walton sued the team and its doctor. He played in only 14 games over the next four seasons. When he finally came back, in ’82, it was with the woeful Los Angeles Clippers.

Then Walton was rescued by the Celtics and found himself once again playing for life, no longer the star but a key cog in a championships machine, finishing his carer on an up note. In ’93, he was elected to the Hall of Fame, and three years alter he was a controversial (in our eyes, at least) choice as one of 50 greatest players in NBA history. Nevertheless…

SLAM: In ’81, you and your doctors announced that your career ws over and the goal of your operations was simply living a normal life. Did you give up at that point?

BILL WALTON: You never give up, but you have to be realistic. The pain was so excruciating, the limitations so total, that you just have to be able to move on. I have been incredibly lucky in my life, learning life’s greatest lessons from my teachers, teammates, coaches and parents. Three things come to mind: [UCLA] coach [John] Wooden constantly speaking about the importance of what’s next in life and never looking at what’s passed; Larry Bird saying that life is like your jump shot: once it leaves your hand, there’s nothing you can do about it, and a message I got from one of my friends in the Grateful Dead. They gave me a nice, big autographed picture, and Mickey Hart, one of the drummers, wrote, “Never look back.” You just have to keep going. Basketball had always been my life, and it was incredibly tough to contemplate living without it. But as a warrior you train yourself to believe you can do anything, and it wasn’t until I had my ankle fused in 1990 that I really gave up.

I had 30 operations, and the first 29 were a piece of cake, because they were all about the dream that I could play basketball again. I went into the last operation knowing that I would never feel the wind blow through my hair again, never feel sweat just pouring off my body, never feel the exhilaration of a game. Basketball for me had always been a celebration of life and greatness and health, and even in the dark early days, I always felt that I could get that back. Once they fused my ankle in ’90, I knew that I would never run again. That was most difficult, though in retrospect it gave me new life. I can get around now, and I can sleep again, without the pain. I just didn’t realize that the same elements which made the basketball team so much fun are out there in the rest of the world, too.

SLAM: Your second NBA championship, with the ’86 Celtics, must have been extra sweet, since you were supposed to be finished as a player.

BW: Oh yes. Larry Bird, Red Auerbach and the Boston Celtics gave me my career-and my life-back. I finally came back from all the injuries and was not able to play quality basketball and had to endure so much losing with the Clippers. So it was a godsend to all of a sudden find myself once again able to experience the joy, spirit and happiness of championship team.

SLAM: How did that team compare to the ’77 Blazers?

BW: They were similar in the values and characteristics of all championship teams, which is that the team came first and foremost for everyone. But that Blazers team was one of the fastest and quickest of all time, and our success was a direct result of phenomenal pressure defense and a relentless, fast-breaking attack. We were the youngest team in the history of the NBA to win a championship. Everyone was 10 years older on the Celtics, who were also a terrific fast-breaking team, though we did not have the speed; rather it came from a suffocating halfcourt set defense and phenomenal rebounding. We also had incomparable individual stars in Larry Bird, Dennis Johnson, Robert Parish and Kevin McHale.

SLAM: Larry Bird…

BW: He was a guy who could not jump but was an incredible rebounder, who could not move yet was a great team defender, who could not run but was the quickest player I ever played with. He was not blessed with a great body, but Larry Bird played with his mind. Really, all the greatest players have had their greatest success at the mental level.

Now, the Trail Blazers team had the incomparable Maurice Lucas, who was just a fierce leader. He was an incredibly skilled basketball player in all aspects-he could shoot, pass, catch, really rebound and play very, very solid individual and team defense. But what really made him special was his sense of team, leadership and responsibility, as well as his commitment to success and his willingness to do whatever it took to win-including beating the other team up. He is still one of my best friends; my third son, Luke, is named after him.

SLAM: Lionel Hollins was another great player from that ’77 team.

BW: A phenomenal basketball player who had great skills, an incredible body and a heart as big as anyone’s. He loved the big plays and the big games, he was a phenomenal defensive ball hawk, he was great at pushing the fast break and he was a pretty darn good shooter.

SLAM: One of the team’s unsung heroes was Bobby Gross.

BW: That’s right. I’ve been really lucky to play with three phenomenal small forwards: Jamaal Wilkes, Bob Gross and Larry Bird, all of whom could turn the worst pass into a thing of grace. They were tremendous post feeders and great runners on the fast break who were also terrific at moving without the ball. And they were all completely aware of spacial relations, timing and plays involving numerous individuals, which is what I loved.

I was never a huge scorer, and I never liked the kind of offense where you just give it to one guy and everybody stands there and watches him go one on one. I like the team game where there’s very little dribbling, but lots of passing, cutting, screening and shooting. When you play like that there’s nothing the defense can do. It’s just a terrific feeling when the ball is hopping so much that you have the other guys’ heads spinning around.

Thoughts and prayer go out to the revolutionary coach who taught players that life’s highlights should not exist only on the basketball court: “Former UCLA men’s basketball coach John Wooden was being treated Thursday at UCLA Medical Center, according to a broadcast report. KCAL9/CBS2 reported that Wooden, 99, was in “grave” condition after being hospitalized Sunday and he has refused to eat for the past couple of days. A UCLA spokesman could not immediately confirm the report.”